


Handprint Walls

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Shelter (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walls are blank, so they really can't be blamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handprint Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tassos

 

 

Cody starts it. Well, Zach's being unfair blamely it on Cody, because he knows what drives Cody to do it: the blank white walls, spread out large just begging for decoration - Zach feels driven to do it, too. But he's doing the Responsible Adult thing, has been doing it for years so it's familiar as a worn habit, and this isn't exactly _his_ place, no matter what Shaun says. He can't expect for it to be okay for Cody to scribble on the walls with marker impossible to scrub off. 

He lectures Cody about keeping the place clean and distracts Shaun from the beginning of a mural crawling up the walls in the corner of the living room until he can swipe a bit of white paint from one of his classrooms and cover it up. 

He feels pretty damn guilty erasing Cody's work like this - he remembers how it felt when it was his own being covered over - but, well. Moving into a place with Shaun, going to art school, and taking care of Cody all adds up. He can't be worrying about the walls, too. 

:::

Cody starts to treat it like a game. He'll start the mural in different rooms, different blank white walls ("Yeah, man," Shaun said. "They're pretty bare. We should get some of your work to hang up here, maybe go through some art galleries too. I have some stuff in storage we could haul out." And that's the _adult_ thing to do, hanging artwork, not drawing on the fucking wall, so that is what they are going to do.), grinning and giggling when Zach gets worked up about the latest mini masterpiece he finds and has to cover it up. 

It can't last, this dance they have going. One afternoon Shaun walks into the middle of Zach re-painting the wall. His lips do that quirky thing and his eyes go soft and amused with a grin. "What's up?" he nods at Zach's brush and tube of white paint, painstakingly matched to the shade of white original to the walls. Zach flushes and Cody squeals, "Zach's painting over my mooral." He means `mural'. 

Shaun raises his eyebrow. "Why is he doing that?"

"I don't know," Cody shrugs, and for the first time looks less than happy about the whole `game'. "Maybe he thinks it's ugly?" and he looks at Zach. His eyes are big and sad. Zach knows he's being at least half-played here, but he can't help but fall all over himself with denial. 

"No, no, buddy, you're doing really good. Definite talent. It's just that walls aren't meant to be painted on." Cody blinks at the paintbrush held in Zach's hand, and Zach says, "You know what I mean."

Shaun giggles. He does that sometimes. It's really adorable. "Zach, it's okay. Let him paint or do whatever on the walls." He peered at Zach, in that weird intense way he had, made Zach feel exposed to his bones but still warm. "You, too. Go nuts. I wanna see what you geniuses come up with." He smiles bright and wide and Zach falls even _more_ in love with him, which he hadn't thought was possible, but there you go. 

"Uh, okay," Zach says. He feels kind of weird. But it's a good kind of weird. It's a planning kind of weird, when he glances at the walls of the living room, the hallway walls, the ceiling. It's all white now but behind his eyes he can see unwinding twists and rivers of colour. 

He smiles and it feels good on his face. He smiles, and it feels good. 

:::

Shaun doesn't know how to do any kind of artwork, but he does so like to admire. Zach doesn't let him get away with just that, though. He spills out bright blue and green and red paint in separate pans and says, "Come on, just your handprint. Leave your mark here."

"I see what you're doing," Shaun says. "You're making sure the police always have a way to get a copy of my prints." He dips his hand in cool paint anyway, and beside him Zach does the same, and on his other side, giggling Cody, too. The rest of the place has been painted vividly, cityscapes and seascapes, a beach in the house, waves so realistic Shaun can hear them lapping at the shore if he stares too long. There's just this rectangle of clear space left, near to the front door in the entranceway. 

Zach presses his hand against it first, face that serious calm when he's deep into his art. Cody echoes it. Shaun leaves his imprint last. 

The paint dries slowly, stays vivid, for all the years they stay there. A reminder: this is home. 

 


End file.
